


the glorious afterparty

by blamethenargless



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV)
Genre: Could Be Canon, Didn't Know They Were Dating, Drinking, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, Fluff, Getting Together, Internalized Homophobia, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Past Relationship(s), lesbian or bisexual? who knows? not me!, only a little angst, takes place after the frat party where buffy and riley just have so much sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-12
Updated: 2018-10-12
Packaged: 2019-07-29 18:36:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,949
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16270016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blamethenargless/pseuds/blamethenargless
Summary: Oh, my God. I’m not straight, she thinks, and her chest fills with panic and with comfort.orWillow comes to a realization. Tara thought that she already knew.





	the glorious afterparty

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys! So, this is the first Buffy fic I've written. Like, ever. Which is scary! But also really fun.
> 
> Additionally, though Willow is said to be, quote, "gay now", I know there's lots of discourse on her actual sexuality. I still don't know where I fall, so I left that pretty up for interpretation, as I think it is in canon.
> 
> Enjoy!

“This is the glorious afterparty,” Willow jokes as she holds back Tara’s hair. 

Between retches, the other girl shoots glares. “Sh-  _ gah _ , shut up,” she groans into the toilet bowl. “Stupid of me to drink so much. I-  _ ugh _ , I never drink.” She coughs up one last heave, then sits back on her heels, wiping at her mouth with her wrist.

“Want me to brew you up a hangover potion?” Willow offers as Tara washes her hands and splashes water on her face, funneling some into her mouth to replenish her dehydrated body. Willow tries not to look up and down Tara’s bare back, shirt gone on account of the vomit. She tries very, very hard, and fails.

“Sure, thank you,” Tara says. She dries her hands, and by the time she turns around, Willow’s already busied herself with drawing ingredients off the shelves. “Want some help?”

  
“No, it’s pretty standard, any low-level witch could whip it up. Besides, I don’t want you falling into the fire, little miss drunkard.”

Tara scoffs her protests. “Hey, it was those Christian orphan children and their sex magic! They made me go crazy at the party.” And maybe Willow’s dreaming, but she thinks she sees a flash of hurt flit across Tara’s eyes. “S-sorry about that, b-by the way,” she says, and Willow thinks,  _ damn, the stutter. I’ve upset her. _

“Ah, it’s nothing. Christian orphan children and their sex magic. We’ve all been there. I can deal with someone running away from a wandering hand. We were all under some influence. You know how much my Jewish witch self cares about the Catholic opinion,” she deadpans, trying to brush off the fact that  _ it was just the magic affecting Tara, Rosenberg, do you really think she’d be, what, gay? For you? _

“Mm. Well, I j-just didn’t want it to ruin, you know.” Tara waves her hand around, then turns to go rummaging in her drawer for a shirt.

“Oh, oh yeah, the famous  _ you know _ .”

The other girl turns, raises her eyebrow, and cocks her head to the side in a scathingly incredulous manner.  _ That’s hot _ , Willow thinks, and then  _ no, that’s wrong, that’s your  _ friend  _ and nothing more,  _ Willow thinks.

“Anyways! One hangover potion, all prepared!” She cheerily offers up the vial, and when it’s gone from her hand, she clicks off her Bunsen burner and sets the cauldron on the spare bed. And she does not look up when she hears Tara gulp down the potion, doesn’t spare even a glance at the curve of her throat as it extends and bobs and-

“Stop it,” she mutters to herself. Tara raises a quizzical look, but Willow shakes her head. “Nothing.”

“So,” Tara starts as she throws herself on her bed. “I’m sure Riley and Buffy are having a load of fun right now.”  
Willow snorts. “Yeah. Why’d you think I came here? I can’t go back to my room, unless I want to see-” she makes a face and groans. “Yeah, no. Not to say I don’t love helping you vomit, though.” And then she winks.

_ Dammit, Rosenberg. A wink? A  _ wink?  _ What are you, Xander Harris in the eleventh grade, trying to lure Cordelia Chase into just one more closet? _

_ That wouldn’t have been too bad, to be Xander Harris in a closet with Cordelia Chase, actually. _

But Tara just smiles. “Well, thanks again, Will. And Xander’s hand, or arm, or whatever, he’ll be ok?”

“Oh, yeah,” she huffs. “I’m sure Anya’s taking  _ real good care _ of him.”

Tara shifts on her bed, and motions for Willow to join her. “I mean, you’re not still hung up on him, I know. So why  _ do _ you get so upset about Anya?”

She sighs, and settles herself next to Tara, flushing slightly when she feels the other girl’s hands on her shoulders, starting to rub. “Anyanka. She cursed him, you know? And she cursed him because of me. Because I was being stupid.”

“Not stupid, I don’t think. We all do mad stuff when w-we’re in l-love.” Her grip tightens on Willow’s shoulders.

“It wasn’t love. Not with him. It was stupid, I swear. I mean, I know a good relationship. I had a good relationship! With Oz! And Xander had a good one with Cordelia. Ok, granted, a highly dysfunctional one with Cordelia that they somehow managed to make work. And I’m, what, a freaking homewrecker? Just because I’m– I don’t even know. Wow. Angry Willow at one in the morning. This really is the next step in our relationship,” she says with a smile, which then turns into a grimace that luckily Tara, seated behind her, can’t see, because  _ relationship? _ She might have just said  _ I want to kiss you over and over again _ .  _ And fall in love with you and live my life with you and _ – Yeah. Relationship.

Tara hums. “Well, I don’t know. You at least loved Oz. To love Xander wouldn’t be that far a leap, I don’t think.”

“Oz. I did. I mean, he’s the perfect guy, right? Played in a band, always treated me well, even bought me little chocolates on Valentine’s day and offered to spend Chanukah with me… He was so sweet.”

“Mm. Well, sometimes you don’t need a guy,” Tara says, and wraps Willow into a hug. 

_ Thank every pantheon above that she can’t see my face right now _ , Willow prays. “Yeah. Sometimes you just need your gals!” She chuckles nervously.

“Totally. Willow, I think I’m still a little tipsy… You’re gonna sleep here tonight, right? To help me if I have to hurl again.”

“‘Course, Tara. You should get some rest now.”

  
Willow waves her hand, and the lights flick out. She grins. _I will never get tired of using magic_. In the dark, she strips off her party clothes and slips into a comfortable set of track pants and a big, oversized _Dingoes_ shirt. _That’s the best part about having a boyfriend in a band. Free merch_.

She slides under the covers of the empty bed, kicking the cauldron onto the floor with a loud clang. It doesn’t seem to phaze Tara, though, who Willow assumes must be fast asleep already. “The powers of alcohol,” she quips, and lays her head down on the pillow.

Mistake. Instantly, thoughts swarm her head. 

Tara. Tara’s horrible yet endearing wardrobe. How she used to part her hair in a zigzag, but then Willow once mentioned she liked it up, and now she usually has a bun or braids in, and what does that mean? When the Gentlemen came, how she almost died. She almost  _ died _ , and then she helped Willow with a spell immideately after. Candlelight striking across her face, her defined nose, her slightly-suken eyes. Her lips moving around the words she didn’t have the voice to say, a silent honeyed language coating her tongue, her slim fingers intertwining with Willow’s own.

A slam, the vending machine striking against the door, and a match striking in Tara’s eyes as a grin broke across her face, and as she didn’t let go.

What would it have been like if Willow didn’t release her grasp? What would it feel like to keep holding on, to snuff out the candles, to lean across the circle and sweep her up into a kiss–

_ No,  _ she thinks.  _ That’s. Not. Right _ .

Tara. Calm, kind, stuttery Tara. Her friend. Her friend, whom she called “mine”. Her friend, who agreed. Her friend her friend her  _ friend her friend her friendherfriendfriendfriendfrie _

She sits upright, gasping. “Bad thoughts,” she whispers, and tries to control her heartrate.

_ Maybe,  _ she reasons with herself,  _ it’s not bad. I mean, hell, that one guy we thought was a werewolf was actually gay. He told Xander that.  _ “And he ended up in the Mayor’s stomach,” she says bitterly to herself.

Tara stirs.

_ Quiet. But still, we treated him fine. And I’m sure other people knew and treated him fine. We’re finally in the twenty-first century. It’s not a bad thing. Ellen came out, and my Mom still watched her show. Gay people aren’t a bad thing at all. It’s just that I’m not one of them. _

She threads her fingers through her too-short hair. Impulsive choice, to cut it off to her chin. She doesn’t really love the way it looks, a little too choppy, but Tara likes to play with it, and it gets soft and bouncy when curled. So she keeps it.

_ And, look, none of the gods had an issue with it. They were all pretty bisexual themselves. Even my God says to love thy neighbor. It’s a commandment. So, no, there’s nothing wrong with it at all.  _

_ But I’m not a lesbian. _

Oz, she recalls. Oz, with his kind eyes and his painted nails and his sarcastic, lilting voice. He never spoke a lot, but when he did, it was funny or insightful or both. Oz, who was in a band. The perfect guy. Who she slept with.  _ No _ , she thinks as the memory comes back to her,  _ not a lesbian. _

Sally Ride, though, had a husband who she slept with, and she’s rumored to be a big freakin’ homo.

“Yeah,” Tara whispers, “I think she is.”

Willow’s eyes widen. “Shoot, I’m sorry. Go back to bed. Did I say that out loud? The Sally Ride thing?”

“Yes, you did. It was funny. ‘M going back to bed, Will. ‘G’night,” she mumbles sleepily, and turns over.

_ Oh, my God. I’m not straight _ , she thinks, and her chest fills with panic and with comfort.  _ I loved Oz, of course I loved him. But I don’t know how romantic that love was. Maybe I’ll never really know. And Xander, well, he was the only boy I was every friends with him. Of course I would develop feelings for him, but they sure as hell weren’t love. Maybe I just thought I had to develop feelings for him. Maybe it was just lust. And Tara. Now. I think I might love her. Really love her. Oh, my God. I like girls. I  _ love  _ a girl. _

“Wait,” Willow says, and the sound of her own voice surprises her. “Wait, I need to tell you something.”

Tara pushes herself up slowly. “‘Mkay, sounds like a lights-on, important-type thing.”

“Ha. Very much important-type. So important-type. You know what? Maybe it can wait till morning, maybe it can wait until you’re not even a little bit intoxicated and we’re not freaking out over Catholic sex demons forcing us to run away from each other and get all touchy-feely. It’s not actually important. Type. Sorta thing,” she says, but by the time she’s reached the end of her ramble, the lights are on and Tara is sitting in her bed, rubbing her eyes blearily and adorably.

_ Adorably. I’m gay, and I’m absolutely into Tara. Why was I denying it for this long? _ She’s so giddy, and she’s so nervous, that she lets out a bark of laughter.

“Ok, so, tell me. What’s this important-type thing that you need to say at at–” Tara glances at the clock “3:36 in the morning.”

Willow pulls at the blanket threads with her bitten-down fingernails. Her toes are twitching under the covers, and her heart is racing a million miles a minute. Shakily, she brushes her hair behind her ear and looks up into Tara’s earnest, questioning eyes.

“I’m gay I mean lesbian no bisexual it’s confusing to me too because Oz but I think outside of him and after Xander I don’t know if I’ll ever like a guy again I don’t think I will and I like you like in a gay lesbian type way and I want to kiss you really badly like I mean very much a lot so and please don’t hate me and my Mom still watches Ellen so it’s ok and Apollo was gay too,” she says, in one very wavering breath.

She squeezes her eyes shut and waits for a wrathful onslaught, for Tara to tell her to  _ get the hell out of my room, you stupid lezzie freak, and never come back! _

Nothing happens.

Slowly, carefully, she peels her eyes open. And is very confused.

One of Tara’s eyebrows is raised, and her mouth is positioned in some kind of half-question, half-charmingly lopsided smile. One hand is raised halfway to Willow’s cheek, and the other is bent in some sort of shrug. 

It’s a very odd position, and Willow can’t figure it out what it means.

“That’s a very odd position, Tara, and I can’t figure out what it means.” She’s surprised her voice is even working.

Tara snorts, once, but her body remains the same. Almost frozen.

It’s moderately frustrating. “Look, I just confessed to you that I like you, like  _ like _ you like you, and why are you looking at me like that?”

“Willow. I thought you knew that I was a lesbian. I thought you knew that I knew you liked girls. Will–” and she breaks off to laugh, her hands falling back at her sides “I thought that we’ve been dating ever since that night that the Faith chick came back and I said I was yours. I m-meant it, you know.”

Willow can barely process what she’s hearing. “You thought we were dating. Like, together. Girlfriend and girlfriend. Since two weeks ago? But then why haven’t you kissed me?”  
Tara smiles again, and _oh_ , it sets Willow’s heart aflame how this girl manages to look _this charming_ in _three in the morning_. “Because you’re new to this, and I’m a lot more experienced than you when it comes to girls. N-no offense,” she adds.

“None taken.”

“It’s just that w-when my mom, you know, uh, d-died, I sorta. Everything fell apart, and my family told me some w-weird things, and. I don’t r-really want t-to get into it r-right now, though.”

Tara’s breathing shakily now, and Willow places a hand on the small of her back and rubs comforting circles. 

Tara shoots her a half-broken smile. “Thanks, darling.”

  
_Darling._ Willow can’t help herself from grinning like a madman.

“So, I reacted by doing what they said not to. And I thought,  _ hey, what will drive my father crazier than if I kissed a girl? _ So I did. And it was amazing. And it was a million times better than kissing any boy I’d been with. And I’ve been kissing girls–and, y-you know, doing m-more with them–since seventeen. So over two years of all that. And I know you just came out of a long relationship, and this is your first one with a girl, and I didn’t want to do anything that would make you uncomfortable.”

Willow’s heart is swelling, lifting. “I’m gay,” she says, again. Just because she can.

“Me, too.” And then Tara places her hand on Willow’s shoulder and slides it down until their fingers are laced together again, like that night of the Gentlemen and the deathly silence and their first majorly successful spell together.

“But, it’s ok that I. You know, uh, slept with a guy? With Oz?” She has no idea how this works. “I’m, like, bisexual?” She doesn’t mean for it to be a question.  
Tara shakes her head _no_. “Not necessarily. If you like men and women both, then yeah. But that’s fine. Do you?”

  
Willow weighs it in her head one more time. _Lesbian, bisexual. Those are heavy words to face. Oz. I really did love him. Xander, I was into. But I just don’t know. I can’t see myself being with a man in the future. Not the way I can see myself with Tara._

“I’m not sure,” she says, and her jaw tightens a little bit, and it’s hard to say. “It sounds… This is terrible, but I kind of hate it. I mean, not even the not knowing part. I loved Oz, and I don’t entirely regret hooking up with Xander, but I just– I don’t know what the future holds for me. But I do hate it. Being whatever it is that I am.”

  
Tara shrugs. “Yeah, well, when you grow up being told that God hates you and it’s a crime against fucking humanity, it gets a little getting used to.”

“Whoa. Swearing. You don’t do that.”

  
Tara smiles, soft and coy. “Willow, there’s a lot of things I do that you just haven’t seen me do yet.” Instantly, her eyes widen. “No. That sounded bad. I d-didn’t mean it that way. Oh, my–”

But Willow cuts her off with a kiss.

It’s nothing like kissing a boy. With Oz, it was soft and gentle, loving, almost timid. He wasn’t one to take aggressive initiative, and it was...nice. Like something familiar, like when she touched him, everything fell into place.

Xander was a hurricane. Their first kiss was needy and wanting and much too much of a long time coming. Covert, fast, and hungry. With Xander, there was nothing at all predictable, and each day kept her on her feet.

Tara, though. Tara. 

She feels soft, similar. Her waist underneath Willow’s hands is smooth and warm. Her lips are soft, too, which is certainly different to the boys’. But there’s something about her that’s just one step ahead, that’s just one blind turn, that’s just a leap of faith across a canyon and onto a bank that holds  _ something _ . Willow doesn’t know what, but she knows that it feels right.

And it’s over far too soon. After a moment, Tara breaks back with a sigh, pressing their foreheads together. “So? Do you want to be with me? Officially, this time.”

“Tara,” Willow whispers, “you’ve already said you’re mine. Well. I’m yours.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Kudos/Comments hugely appreciated! (Though, no spoilers for s6/7, as I just finished s5)(I do know that Tara is, unfortunately, and unsurprisingly...rather ill-fated, though)


End file.
